ThirtySeven Seconds After Sunset
by taniaSLC
Summary: An idea of what happened to Sirius when he fled Hogwarts at the conclusion of PoA. Warning: Adult content! This story involves sexual acts and descriptions between mostly consenting adults.
1. Lay All Your Love On Me

_Author's Note: This is yet another update of my first chapter, in the constant pursuit of something better and better. This go around I actually had help- the invaluable help of lexy, who is amazing! I am truly, truly indebted to her for her patience and exhaustive help- even if she'd never helped edit this chapter, I'd still owe her. lexywrites, you are amazing!_

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any aspect of the world created by J.K. Rowling. I just like imagining what they do when the narrative moves away from them and they have a chance to stretch and play. I do not mean any harm or illegality in writing this piece of fluff, so please don't sue me.**

**Disclaimer the second part: This story is rated M for adult content (which, if you're curious, starts in the next chapter and then reappears in later ones). If scenes depicting sexual thoughts and acts upset you, then please don't read this.**

The night Sirius Black entered my life so was ordinary, I still cannot recall exactly what day of the week it was. Dusk found me on the cliff-top, as it so often did. The stereo in my living room had been enchanted to amplify its sound and it accompanied me outdoors. I was listening to music so loudly that I could almost hear it, now and again, echoing back from the far cliffs (one of the many enchantments placed upon my property, along with those for protection and security, kept loud noises, like music, muffled from muggle ears).

I was not only listening to ABBA (pretend to judge me -- you love them, too), I was singing along, belting out the words ("Don't go wasting your emotion- lay all your love on me!") along with them in a horrid, loud, off-key voice. I'd stripped until all I had on was a dark blue prairie skirt, which I kicked up as I twirled about and danced in the grass.

I fancied that the salty sea breeze blowing against my newest tattoo was helping to heal it. It was a line, in Elvish runes, of a poem by J.R.R. Tolkein. It translated to Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost and trailed down my sternum.

In short, I was indulging in a rather typical evening of infantile but extremely delightful behavior which made being an hermit so agreeable when I heard a strange sound -- something between a bleat, a coo, and nicker, followed by hoof beats.

I turned to locate the sound and found myself about ten feet away from a hippogriff. I remembered the creature from my school studies -- head and wings of bird, the body of a horse -- but nothing in a textbook could have prepared me the daunting presence that stood before me. The beautiful mix of silver and blue in its feathers and coat could not diminish the power of the beast.

I quickly brought forth my wand from a pocket in my skirt and flicked it toward the house, silencing the music. Then, remembering what I'd learned years before, swept into a deep bow. Never having anticipated actually meeting one of these creatures, I hadn't exactly committed to memory all that might have been useful. I recalled that they were polite, so the bowing was in order if I wanted to approach it, but I couldn't remember if eye contact was to be maintained or avoided. I only hoped it didn't really matter either way.

I returned to an upright position and the animal returned my bow. Apparently, whether I'd gotten it right or not, I had not been found wanting. It then turned its head, inclining its beak towards its back. Following his gaze, I noticed, for the first time, a man astride him.

Well, astride may not have been the word for it. The man was slumped forward, unconscious. His limp arms were on either side of the animal's neck, his dark, stringy hair tangled in the blue-silver feathers there. He appeared to be wearing an overly-large black trench coat, but beyond that I could not see much.

I reached out an open hand and approached beast and rider, uncertain how to proceed beyond that. Was the man injured or dead? Did the animal solicit my help for healing or burial? And why had he (I thought he, but had no idea of the animal's gender) brought the man to me? Then again, regardless of the answers to my questions, I had to help this man. I could only hope it was in keeping with the desire of the animal for me to remove his passenger.

The huge bird's head found my hand, and nuzzled it. I began to stroke its beak but swiftly, and with more care than I would have expected, it instead took my hand in its beak. Turning its head, still with utmost care and gentleness, he placed my hand atop the man's head, cooing again once it was there.

I stroked the hair and let my fingers cautiously wander to the man's neck, brushing through the curls until I found a pulse. Yes! There it was! Now that I was closer and watching more attentively, I could only just discern the rise and fall of the man's back as he took small, shallow breaths.

I took a step back and paused, considering what to do next. The animal's eyes never left my face, questioning me. In a single, fluid movement, I pointed my wand at the hippogriff's beak and spoke a single word: "Hominirhetorius!"

The indignant squawk of the animal's turned spontaneously into a stream of… if not invectives, the words were not nice. They were being spoken by a slightly hysterical, mid-timbered, human, male voice -- one with a lilting Stoke accent.

"-- confounded blasted wand! If I had one of them, I'd – wait -- did you hear that?!"

"I am quite sorry, sir, but in order to help this man I need to find out how he came to this state. You, as his companion, seem the likeliest witness. I am sorry that I caught you off-guard, but I assure you, my intent is to help, not offend."

"Bloody cheek, she has. Maybe I don't want to talk like one of you lot -- maybe I prefer my own speech! Why not put a spell on yourself so you can understand me, not the other way around?"

"Well, I don't know a spell for that. Also, it didn't occur to me. This is a spell I know, so it's the one I used. Now, do you want me to help him or not?"

"Course I do. I brought him here, didn't I?"

"Would you mind carrying him into my home? I could use my wand, but I think the journey would jar him less if you were to do it."

He seemed to be looking dubiously at the doorway.

"Inside, it is one single, large room and you shall fit quite easily. I'll magic the door larger from here."

I did so, and we commenced walking in a clipped fashion toward the house.

"Can you tell me his name?"

A moment's hesitation followed.

"Padfoot. He's got others, but that's as good as any…least for now. You do realize you've got nothing on top, don't you?"

I'd forgotten, mostly, that my peasant blouse was lying discarded on the ground a hundred yards from where I was still moving, but his words reminded me. What's more, they embarrassed me. I could feel a blush start at my chest, creep up my neck, and land on my face with a splat.

"Oooh -- I've never seen one of you do that without clothes on -- I didn't realize you could make that color all over! Do it again!"

I gestured to the bed and murmured, "Just put him on the bed, doofus."

It takes the both of us to get the man to the bed and then I turned to the hippogriff.

"I'm sorry to have forgotten to ask before this, but what is your name?"

"I thought it was Doofus."

"Sorry about that, as well…"

"It is Buckbeak."

"Buckbeak, it is very nice to meet you. My name is Amarice."

"Yes, well -- can you fix him?" Hippogriffs are creatures which have a strict sense of propriety. The only explanation for Buckbeak's lack thereof must be his worry and concern for the man now laying on my bed.

Then I looked closer and thought I could see that the beast was tired and hungry but it's difficult to tell with a creature I'd never seen before.

"I might know if I can if you tell me what happened to our Mr. Padfoot."

The man on the bed, Padfoot, was thin, haggard, and filthy. Eyes closed under heavy black brows, I couldn't see their color. His skin was gray, sunken and stretched over his skull. How long since he'd had a decent meal?

There were huge, dark circles around his eyes. How long since he'd slept, really slept? He opened his mouth to sigh and revealed rotten, black teeth. The picture was completed by a long beard, which had obviously not been trimmed in a very, very long time.

His long black coat was worn over a striped shirt and matching pants. The outfit could have either been a slightly odd choice of pajamas or a prisoner's uniform. I looked to his feet and saw tattered plastic sandals. Yep, a prisoner.

Had he been set free or escaped? What crime had he committed that required imprisonment? Something about him seemed familiar, in a way. I felt that, were he cleaner, were his hair and beard trimmed, if he had a month of decent meals, perhaps I would be able to recognize him.

Then I noticed that there were spots of blood on his clothes -- as if he'd sustained injuries of some sort, but had put these clothes on after they had happened.

"Got into a fight with a werewolf."

"He what?"

"A werewolf. A bit of a fight…sort of a…thing. Then there were the-"

"Wait- let me see if I can get him to tell me."

Hitching up my skirt, I climbed atop him, centering my midsection to his, chakra to chakra. I rubbed my hands together, calling up stores of empathy and power. I leaned toward his face.

I placed a palm to his forehead, then his temple, reaching with the other so I was holding his head between my hands. I let one hand wander lower, over his neck, massaging his pulse, while the other closed over his eyes. I murmured a word of incantation, asking him to show me what had lead to his appearance at my home.

A vision of him, howling, curled into a fetal position, bellowing three names in more of a keen than a human voice -- James, Lilly, Harry. Then things changed. He was in a place, tiny, wet, black with mold and mildew, lit by flickering torchlight from high above on the wall, arms wrapped around himself as he gently rocked to and fro and stared, glassy-eyed, at the wall, still repeated the three names. James, Lilly, Harry. Then, stomping in the snow in the form of a huge, black dog, but still him. Streaking toward an angry-looking house, propelled forward by a righteous avenging fury, but this time a different name repeated like a mantra- Peter.

Locked in battle with a werewolf, again in dog form, but no, not really a battle. It was more like Padfoot was striving to keep the werewolf in place -- never initiating contact unless the wolf seemed inclined to head towards somewhere else. He seemed to greatly desire a trip to a small group nearby, a few people standing.

And then, on the bank of a large pond, unconscious, with an abjectly terrifying black figure hovering above, grisly, seeping lips parting, approaching his, and beginning to sip some sort of vapor escaping from Padfoot's lips and nose. Then an opalescent, ethereal yet solid stag appeared and head-butted the thing, sending it flailing over the tree line.

One last image -- embracing a boy of about fourteen years, feeling him hugging back, fiercely, not wanting to let go, and feeling his faith, his trust, his hope, his love making everything worthwhile.

Healing years of hurt and hopelessness in a single embrace. That boy's love was what kept the man alive. It had given him the will to survive everything that had come before. Proving worthy of that love was the hope keeping him alive and breathing even now.

"Wow. Let me get this straight. We have a frighteningly malnourished, physically wasted man who fought with a werewolf and almost got a Dementor's Kiss on the same night. That's a tricky thing."

"May I be of service? Do you require assistance?"

Thing was, now that Padfoot had showed me what he did, I knew how to fix him and I did not require Buckbeak. Turns out, I hadn't exactly needed him to even tell me what was wrong. I felt slightly guilty having used a spell on him without his permission, particularly when I turned out out to not even need it.

"Actually, I think I see a path to recovery, and I think I know how to set him on it. I do, however, think you could help me with the voles that are out in my garden. There is also a freshwater spring. Please, go, eat, and rest. You've obviously worked to get him this far, and you need to take care of yourself now. I will most certainly call you if I need further assistance."

"I am yours to command, my lady."

Apparently even just the promise of food was enough to return Buckbeak to himself and a sense of propriety. He knelt to me, showing his neck, which was quite the sign of respect and trust. I returned the gesture and he exited, leaving me alone with the project passed out on my bed.

_Author's Note, again: I forgot to mention that I also don't own the rights to any ABBA songs or the line from a Tokein poem that I quoted earlier. I hope it doesn't make anyone angry that I wanted to use them here._

_Please feel free to review... gently._


	2. All Is Full of Love

**Disclaimer, as always: I do not own any characters or phrases created by and belonging to J.K. Rowling. I mean no harm in posting this piece of fluff, and am receiving no financial gains for doing so. Please don't sue me- I don't have any money to take anyway.**

_Author's Note: This is an update courtesy of Lexy, the wonderful and generous. All hail Lexy and her patience!_

Deciding to begin at beginning, I passed my wand from his head to foot, murmuring "Evanesco" as I did so and he became clean in an instant. Not just clean to sight -- his hair, his teeth, his nails were all spotless now. His clothes still looked ratty and ill fitting, but the stripes were more pronounced, less just an entire field of gray.

With another flick of the wand and a whisper of a different phrase, his clothes were gone and he lay completely naked on my bed.

The lack of clothing and dirt revealed both the extent of the dogfight injuries and a bewildering series of tattoos. The vast majority of the tattoos were completely indecipherable to me, but a few I recognized as runes and other semi-archaic symbols -- for protection, as near as I could tell.

The scratches and bite marks were not as bad as they should have been given his opponent. Something about their resemblance and nearness to older scars on his shoulders, torso, and thighs, seemed to hint at a certain familiarity with the wolf -- as if this were an old dance with all the same moves; as if this wolf, its habits, and its tactics were known to Padfoot. Curiouser and curiouser…

I waved a wand and summoned a series of small bottles from the kitchen, then began the liberal application of dittany to the wounds. They would never heal completely, they would, inevitably, join the other pre-existing scars, but the dittany would help with the pain and accelerate the healing process a bit.

His physical injuries were really not a primary concern -- they were slight in comparison to what lay ahead. Now that they were mending, I was left with the rest of him.

The malnutrition and exhaustion would be helped in time, but the greatest danger now lay in the after-effects of the sustained nearness to and recent encounter with the Dementors. Padfoot seemed to have spent years in the presence of the foulest creatures on Earth, creatures who fed off of any positive emotion they sensed in humans and left them shadows of their former selves.

The Kiss I'd seen the beginning of would have, if it went on much longer, actually sucked his soul out -- severing it from him and leaving a literal shell of a human being.

Hunger for justice and vengeance had kept him going while in Azkaban. Once he left that evil place, hunting his quarry had given him the necessary fight to keep going but that had not gone according to plan.

The boy was the key. His love was literally all that kept Padfoot in one piece- mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. Still, even with that, he was like a puzzle whose pieces were being pulled in different directions. I had to do something to press them and keep them in place for him. After waking, I would only be able to help so much; the reparation of his soul and spirit would be up to him. But if I didn't help him now, there was a chance he would not get that opportunity.

There was really only one way to help him now, but it was a slightly strange thing to think about, and an even odder thing to do. But what was there to be shy about? I was already mostly naked. And how could I even pause? This was a man's soul, after all; it was a question of saving his life!

On the other hand there lay the concern about what would happen to me if I followed through with this intention. It would be calling upon more and deeper magic than I had allowed myself to use in a very long time. Would it awaken a certain hunger, the fear of which was never far from my mind? Would I lose control and end up hurting him more than helping? Either way, there was only one course of action- I could avoid it, or I could face it and do what I needed to do. Again, was there even a doubt of the course I must follow?

I cast my skirt aside and took a bottle from the group I'd placed on the nightstand next to the bed. It held a combination of lavender, sage, chamomile, and peppermint oils- each imparted a quality he would need now.

I crawled into the bed beside him and looked at him. The brand of unconsciousness that held him in its thrall at present gave an illusion of peace, but the true lack thereof was evidenced by his strange, shallow breathing pattern. His eyes were shooting back and forth under his eyelids, and every once in a while small noises escaped from his throat, as if he was about to yell, but he never did.

I rolled him over so he was lying on his stomach, his face turned sideways. I once more climbed astride him, then poured a generous amount of oil all over my hands. I leaned forward, slowly, deeply, rubbing, massaging his head, from the temples, behind the ears, to the base of his skull. A small moan escaped from his lips and I knew I was having the desired effect.

Singing…something, anything soothing. I could have turned on the stereo, same as I could have waved my wand and simply vanished the kinks in his neck. But there is something in the magic of actual physical touch that heals body and soul more than a spell. It is the connection between giver and receiver -- flesh to flesh, voice to ear -- that can knit the heart back into a whole.

As I moved my hands lower, working more on the base of his skull and his neck, I began to sing lullabies -- soothing nothing songs to banish childish fears, to lull…to lull…"Go back to bed now, my darling…" "Baby mine, don't you cry…"

Neck, shoulders, back -- so thin, so emaciated. So much fear and hatred and strife turning into hard knots of sinew and tendons, muscles wrapping around like fists.

Adding more oil, I instructed him to breathe deeply, breath slowly, and was surprised when he did. His slight mutterings, the beginnings of sounds that never came just turned into more places too tight. I made them loose, bade them farewell and spoke peace, calm to them, made the fist unclench and gave them lavender for peace, sage to cleanse, peppermint to quicken the blood and chamomile to make it all easier.

I moved him and myself, so he was lying on his back and I was sitting on his chest, supported mostly by my knees on either side of his torso, getting to watch the color begin to return to his skin. Not quite pink, not exactly human, but better than gray.

Then, holding his face, I felt and looked to read him again. Could anyone deserve the treatment he'd received? Probably, if I stopped and thought about things I'd heard people were capable of doing. I didn't find any guilt, not the burden that comes from evil. There was not a mark on his soul except for a whimpering, searing pain. There was also no surrender; he had such stores of strength! Aside from anything else, a will to survive, a fervent need to do so for the boy, still the boy…

I asked him, without speaking, if he knew his name. A word floated up to me: Sirius. His name? Or just the name of a friend, someone else on his mind? I told him I would call him that, instead of Padfoot, and asked if that was okay. My response was an image of four laughing teenaged boys.

"I have no real idea what to make of that, so I'll assume that was a yes, Sirius."

He smiled -- actually smiled, and not just in his mind.

I poured more oil and began on his neck, his shoulders, and his chest. Rubbing deeply, firmly, eliciting more tiny noises from him, I could still feel him dissolving beneath me.

I scooted down a bit, and the second reason for the massage hit me, well…I stopped holding myself over him, let myself settled a bit.

My cunt was now resting on his lower belly. I swear I could feel his tattoos, hotter than the rest of his skin, threatening to singe my flesh. I'd been pouring power into him, gently, a bit at a time, to aid his healing, and I wondered how much of the heat I felt was coming from me and my power, and how much was coming from him.

To be honest, it wasn't just the power pouring back and forth. How long had it been since anyone but myself had been between my legs? How long since I had allowed myself such intense, prolonged contact with another person? I had no idea. But the response was exactly what I needed it to be to follow through with the plan. I was not worried or feeling ashamed for what I was about to do. It was necessary, but I still felt a certain hesitation.

Power and magic can be called and refreshed through many different means and each witch or wizard knows the way that works best for them. Some regenerate through coma-like sleep, some through eating and eating, some through submersion in water. For me, the quickest, most effortless, and most effective way to call my power has always been sex.

Living on my own, I seldom used enough of my magic at any one time to need to restore it. It usually just happened over the course time, naturally. But at the rate I was going, I would need something to happen and it had to happen soon.

Of course, the main reason I was about to have sex with Sirius was that it would heal him. Of all the things I could do for and to him, this was the thing that was guaranteed to work.

The rush, the euphoria, the connection to another person would push him from the danger zone into the area of safe recovery. It would stimulate parts of his brain lying dormant, and once they woke up, so would he. Such a mutually beneficial arrangement would be hard to find in a different form.

My hesitation was in considering his reaction to finding out, as he eventually would, that I'd followed a course of action some would call a violation. I could only hope that he would be wise and mature enough to understand why I was about to do what I was about to do and accept that it was the only course of action.

I pushed his head back, exposing his neck. I traced the lines of tattoo ink there with my finger, wondering what they meant to him, but then I gave up thinking and trailed my tongue over the ink instead. I pressed my face to the skin there, inhaling, and I swear that somewhere, under the scent of the oil, I found the scent of his flesh itself. I trailed my tongue over the edge of his beard, where it met the sensitive skin just under his jaw line. He drew a ragged breath beneath me.

Moving back ever so slightly, I looked until I could see his pulse, beating quickly now, as I continued moving against his stomach, pushing against him in a rhythm I hadn't noticed until it began to make my blood hum.

I touched my tongue to his neck, feeling his pulse with it, thrilling higher and higher with each beat. I took the vein between my teeth, sucking at the warmth buzzing just beneath the surface, as I felt his power awaken and rise to meet mine.

More than anything, I wanted to tear the thin flesh and let his blood fill my mouth. I longed to feel it spurt, hot and gushing, into my mouth, down my throat. To let it spill out, down my neck, bathing my breasts… but he didn't have enough power to let it go to waste like that, so I couldn't. Not at the moment, at least.

No- this is business, not pleasure, I screamed at myself inside of my head. I was healing and helping, not here for the satisfaction. That was just an extremely pleasant side effect.

I relinquished his skin from between my teeth and rose up, stretching, pressing my snatch flush against his stomach, just below his navel, rubbing my clit against him, feeling his pubic hair scratching against me and letting it make me even hotter until I became dizzy with need. Judging by the deep, ravening, animalistic groan that came from him, he liked it as well. It was not a normal groan but a wild, primal one, one used when language is forgotten.

Absent hesitation, a pause or conscious thought, I reached back, grabbed his cock, and guided it smoothly to my cunt. I pushed back and down onto it, feeling it stab and fill me so long and so hard it was an exquisite pain, pressing against my cervix, bruising me, making me want to scream.

I lifted myself up, then back, so slowly, relishing each plunge, slowly feeling all the places he touched inside of me as I did it, feeling my muscles clenching around him. Then deliberation was gone and all sense with it. I flung myself down upon his chest and began to move harder and harder and faster and faster.

I took his hands and held them over his head, still moving hard, so hard that I was about to lose my breath entirely in an insane frenzy more like rutting than anything human.

The orgasm began to hit me then -- starting in my vagina, searing my clitoris, spreading in green liquid fire up and over my body, coming from his, pouring from his very heart.

I felt my entire body seize and clench in a sensation so intense, I thought my head would actually explode. A wild scream tore from the very center of my being and I sunk my teeth hungrily into his neck, sinking into his flesh, stopping just short of drawing blood.

Right then, right when I almost literally tore his throat out and I became entirely unhinged, two things happened almost at the same time. The first was that his hands shot from my slackened grasp and found my hips. His fingers dug, burrowed into my flesh and he squeezed hard, moving me even harder and faster. In my surprise, I lifted my head to look at his face and his eyes flew open, boring into mine as he arched beneath me and screamed a single word: "Please!"

He came.

I could feel him coming inside of me as I looked into his eyes, which, for half an instant, focused on mine.

Then his eyes rolled back in his head, the lids closed. The hands fell limp at his side once more. I knelt over him, shaking as I was hit with aftershocks, mini-orgasms, final twitches. I started to pull off him, but paused. I wanted to go on holding him inside of me, never wanted to leave the blind white purity and perfection of having him buried in me all the way.

I kept looking into his face, impressed that it seemed to have transformed since I'd last bothered to look.

His eyes, while closed once more, had stopped their frantic shifting. His skin was pink, his breathing deep and regular- but also, somehow satisfied-sounding. Pressing my forehead to his, I barely had to even look for or draw forth his thoughts. They shifted about in a slightly helter-skelter fashion, but that was fine with me as soon as I saw that the words he had just then were "yes," "please," "thank you," and "happy."

I ran hands down his body once more and he was almost as good as new- even the cuts and bites had already become white scars. He was still hungry and physically tired, but all shadows of the influence and ill-will of the Dementors had been eradicated, replaced with satisfaction, peace, and contentment.

I wanted to wend my arms and legs about him and sleep, cleaved together -- but that was a dangerous thought.

I knew that this mental and emotional closeness was almost imaginary, that he'd forget upon waking, I should forget it sooner, and we owed one another absolutely nothing. But I felt like we'd been through trenches together. I'd seen portions of him that no one else had, things I doubted he'd be inclined to offer even when conscious. But it was magic- not reality. I had healed him, he'd let me- that was all.


	3. I've Got Dreams To Remember

I took William, my teddy bear, from the floor nearby and gently laid him in Sirius's arms. He, almost instantly, rolled over and curled into a ball around the plush white toy. He looked so child-like, I half expected him to put a thumb in his mouth and begin sucking. I pulled the covers up from the foot of the bed and lovingly tucked them around him, then couldn't resist kissing his forehead before turning away.

I pulled my red kimono off a hook on the wall and wandered outside, able to see easily by the glow of the rising full moon. Buckbeak's silvery-blue coat and feathers were all but glowing in the dark as he stood beside my small fountain, cleaning his feathers.

I was certain to make noise as I approached, lest I surprise him. Aside from a deep need for civility, hippogriffs are also famous for making fierce, deadly foes, and I did not want to startle this one into an attack.

He saw me and nodded as I approached, then bowed further.

"My lady, I beg your forgiveness for the, ah, brusque manner and words I employed earlier. I was quite disquieted by your spell and was rather concerned for the welfare of my friend. For my lax speech and lack of courteousness, I beg your forgiveness."

"Think nothing of it, sir. I understand. Though the apology is unnecessary, I accept it wholeheartedly.

"Having said that, can we possibly return to that exact level of casual conversation? I know you hippogriffs love manners, but they wear me out. Our friend is fine, by the way."

"Oooh- so we share him now, do we?" For a frightening and mythological creature, Buckbeak sounds, for all the world, like some camp actor dragging his way through rehearsals to play Queen Gertrude.

I tsked at him and continued- "I was able to renew the bonds holding his mind, body, and soul together, the cuts and scratches are healed to scar, and he sleeps the sleep of a very tired man, not the one hovering over the threshold between life and death, like he was when he arrived here. I don't know how long he'll sleep, but as soon as he wakes, I'll have to give him food. I'm half-tempted to conjure up a bottle and feed it to him as he sleeps."

He shrugged. "I wouldn't worry- when his body decides that it needs food more than it needs sleep, it will awaken him. But he's fine, he will be fine- won't spend the rest of his life drooling, falling over, walking into walls or anything?"

"Most likely not. I couldn't really say- I've never been technically trained as a healer. But near as I can tell, as deeply as I can look, the answer is yes."

"Did he tell you his name yet?"

"He gave me a name, but didn't say it was his. He just sort of offered it."

"And it was?"

"Sirius."

He gave me a look that was slightly uneasy, as if waiting for something. Now that I was not occupied trying to heal him, I had time to realize that the name sounded familiar, but I couldn't quite reason out why that was. I repeated it to myself and suddenly I remembered where I'd heard it before- the year before, on the wizard radio, and then again, a sign in the muggle post office. He'd done something- broken out Azkaban, of all things. He was a killer- killed a street full of muggles… But that didn't sound right. Either way, the Ministry of Magic must have been quite worried if they bothered to alert the muggle law-keepers.

"Sirius Black?! The man in my bed is Sirius Black?!"

Buckbeak seemed poised to attack should I do anything- worried that I would somehow alert the Ministry, I suppose. I quickly held up my hands, palms out, and stopped moving.

"Buckbeak, you don't need to worry- there is absolutely no way I would turn him into the Ministry. I did not repair the damage done to him by the dementors only to give him back to them. I promise, I will **never** hurt him or let anyone else do so, long as there is breath in my body. He is my guest and has all the protection I can offer."

He relaxed visibly and I put a hand on his beak.

"You just sounded as if you were appalled by his very name."

"No- I'm appalled because… how to put it? Only a monster could have done what they say Sirius Black did. To have killed so many people, his soul would be rent by the aftermath, he'd be unable to stand beneath the burden of guilt and the lives he took standing over him.

"The man who is currently asleep, curled up around my teddy bear, has never killed. The greatest damage done to him has been the constant closeness of and periodic attack from dementors. I was appalled that an innocent man can be held so violently captive by whatever lies put him in Azkaban."

He relaxed visibly as I spoke, apparently having decided that I was being truthful.

"So, he escaped a year ago. From what I could tell, he has been running around for a year, trying to find the one who did the things he was accused of doing. Then… the fight with the werewolf, the dementors by the lake- were you at Hogwarts?"

"Sirius broke out of Azkaban to find the man who really was responsible for the crimes they jailed him for committing, the man whose betrayal lead to the murder of his best friend and wife, and the attempted murder of their little boy. His godson, actually."

Buckbeak continued talking, informing me of the confrontation between Sirius, his friend Remus who was a teacher at Hogwarts, Severus Snape, and the man who was responsible for the deaths of the Potters and all of the evil that had befallen Sirius since. The man, Peter, escaped, Sirius fought with a transformed Remus, and was then turned over to dementors. Dumbledore had enabled Harry and a friend to help Sirius and Buckbeak escape, and indicated to them the general direction of my cottage, implying that help lay there.

As things continued to come into clearer focus I decided that Albus ought to be updated on Sirius' well-being; he could also inform us of Remus's current status, something that was sure to be Sirius's mind. If I were reunited with an old friend, only to be involved in conflict with him through neither of our faults, I would wonder what had become of him.

I went to my desk- Buckbeak elected to remain outdoors- and quickly wrote a note to Albus. The odds of anyone but him seeing it were probably slim, but I resorted to veiled references in order to protect us both, just in case.

"Padfoot safe, healing and resting. B.B. fine as well. They are protected with me and having nothing to fear. Padfoot requests news of his friend, the furry one."

I signed my name, then called Olga so I could attach it to her leg. I instructed her to take the parchment to Albus, and only Albus and she left, a dormouse's tail still dangling from her beak. Having dispatched my owl, I decided to go check on Buckbeak. He raised a head as I approached and spoke a single sentence.

"My wings are cramping."

"So, fly around, work out the kinks."

"I wanted to check with you before I did. I know that the muggle village is close enough that someone might see me, and I didn't want to compromise you or your secrecy more than I already have by arriving here at all."

"Oh, Buckbeak, how thoughtful! You'll be fine, though. I have a particular charm on my property- if a muggle sees anything odd in the vicinity of my home, they immediately need to use a restroom. By the time they've answered nature's call, they have forgotten whatever they thought they'd seen. You're free to do what you will."

He took off and I watched him- he looked wild and majestic, soaring with his wings barely moving, more coasting, swooping with his head thrown back. He looked as if he were drinking the air like water, but then again, for all I knew about hippogriff physiology, he might have been doing just that.

A strange wooshing sound came from the general direction of my fireplace. I knew she'd have gotten there around now- for an ordinary-looking owl, Olga can practically break the sound barrier when she thinks you need her to.

I entered the house to the sound of a gentle yet urgent whisper, a low mellifluous voice, "Amarice? Amarice- are you there?"

I rushed to the fireplace and knelt before the glowing, green head of none other than Albus Dumbledore himself.

"Oh, child- there you are! He is here?"

I shifted to my right so that Albus could see Sirius, on the bed, over my left shoulder.

"Thank the gods and godesses!" He closed his eyes and appeared to be doing just that. "You said he's on the mend?"

"Yes, mostly. I don't know- I'm no healer. He had some werewolf scratches and bites, they've healed. Some mental injuries, healed rather well, I think."

He raised his eyebrows, knowing exactly how I would have to have gone about accomplishing that. Doubtless, he realized my talents were well-suited to Sirius' injuries and that's why he'd sent them in my direction.

"He looks out cold- when did that happen?:

"He was unconscious when he and Buckbeak arrived. He's more or less been in the same state ever since."

"How did you learn his name?"

"Buckbeak told me."

"Well, I must admit that Hagrid seemed to communicate rather well with him, but I've always assumed he was exaggerating the animal's skills…"

"I used a spell to give animals human speech. I used telepathy on Sirius, asked him to show me things, and he did, then Buckbeak filled in the blanks. "

"As to your other question, Professor Remus Lupin has only just transitioned back to his human form. He is in the hospital wing receiving treatment for a number of injuries sustained in a dogfight, but is perfectly fine."

I sighed. "That's a relief. Once Sirius wakes up, I'll let him know. I think he's worried. Maybe Lupin could visit him here."

"Are you really prepared for such an invasion of your home? I know you prefer to keep your own company."

"But that didn't stop you from sending two fugitives here for their recuperation, did it?" I held up a hand to stop him before he could offer explanation or denial. "I'm not complaining. It just seems likely to me that, through Harry, you indicated to Sirius and Buckbeak that traveling in my general direction was a good idea. And it was- I've got more charms of protection and safety than most people could guess, I'm isolated from both the wizarding and muggle worlds, and, well-"

"Perfectly suited to the healing of a man with the wounds Sirius Black bears."

I knew I should feel at least vaguely unnerved by my own uncle's knowledge of my ability to use sex as a healing tool, but, instead, I'm flattered at his confidence in my powers.

"Precisely. I'm just saying that you had something to do with their arrival on my doorstep. In for a penny, in for a pound- might as well send someone else my way. I have room and he has nowhere to go- he ought to come be where his friend is. I'm certain a reunion would work wonders for them both."

"I agree, so long as it is what you really want, Amarice."

"It is, I promise. Shall I invite him myself or would it be better coming from you?'

"My passing along of the message ought to suffice. Do you require anything, any assistance? We have a most interesting house-elf here who would likely love to go to your home and help with domestic matters."

"A house-elf? Not quite what I'd imagined you'd offer as help, Albus."

"Ah, yes, but Dobby is not what one could call 'typical.' He's a free elf who stays at Hogwarts by choice, largely to be near Harry Potter."

"Sirius and he seem to have already begun a very strong bond."

"Of course- Harry is all Sirius has, you see? And Sirius could be the family Harry needs- his only blood relations being vile in the extreme."

"Well, for better or worse, Sirius also has me, now. I want to help him in any way I can."

"My girl- you sound almost as if-"

"Don't say it!"

"- you were falling in love. Are you?"

"Oh, Albus- why do you say such things? I do not believe in that and you know it!"

"Love?"

"Romantic love. If it does exist, it's just not for me."

"But you are so young- you cannot foresee past the bend in the road."

"Has romantic love enriched your life, Uncle? Or has it left chaos and shattered lives in its wake?"

There was a solemn pause as Dumbledore's gaze shifted downward- I assume to his hands, but I couldn't see them, as they weren't in the fireplace. Bringing up such painful memories instantly made me feel atrocious- especially as I knew that I was one of the few people who knew the truth about Albus's past. Also, he didn't need reminding of the circumstances which had caused the long-standing rift between him and my father.

"While it lasted," he offered, in a quite, rueful tone, "my love enriched my life in ways I'd never imagined possible. When it died, or rather, when it was killed… that pain drove me to some of my most worthwhile endeavors. It crystallized the ideas and drives that made me who I am. And, in case you need clarification, it was indeed real."

"Albus, I'm so sorry, I just-"

"No, no- it was patronizing of me to have mentioned your youth as if it were a strike against you. The great love of my life was already in the past by the time I was your age, and I doubt that its reality was rendered less because of my age.

"I meant to say that we don't, most of us, see the future very well- life is very long and full of the unimaginable. The downright bizarre frequently occurs as well, but perhaps I don't need to mention that to a woman who had, as unexpected guests this evening, a hippogriff and a supposed mass killer."

I smiled. "Tell me about it."

Sirius began to move around on the bed, and to whimper in a strange way.

"Go, see to your charge, and I shall persuade Remus to visit you. It is a very good thing you are doing, Amarice- may the gods return it in kind."

And just like that, he was gone. I went to the bed to check on Sirius and realized that I was already having a difficult time remembering what my bed looked like when he wasn't in it. For the first time, I allowed myself the thought- "… what if he stayed?"

But then his shuddering became more pronounced, almost violent. He began to get to his feet and bellowed- "Not Harry, too! You can't have him!"

"Sirius- get back in the bed!" Not that I thought he'd listen, but you never know.

I finally had to get in the bed with him and sit atop him to restrain him. He bucked beneath me and similarity to our earlier encounter forced the blood from my head. He was, once again, hard, and simply climbing onto what he unknowingly offered would be so simple.

Simple, but self-serving. Easy, but technically rape. What I'd done earlier had been amazing (earth-shattering, mind-blowing, intoxicating), but completely justifiable- doing the same thing now would be unthinkable. All I could do was calm him, soothe him, and hope that once he was awake, he'd try to go where he'd already gone once.

And so, I smoothed his brow and murmured in his ear. I told him all was well, that Harry was safe, that Remus would arrive soon. That when he awoke I would feed him heartily and described roasted boar and buckets of mead (not things I would actually be able to serve, but they sounded tempting). I promised him new clothes and a haircut. I promised him a world where he was safe and where, eventually, everyone would know of his innocence. A world that owed him happiness and peace, and would pay it upon his wakening.

He calmed down, he quieted, and I lay beside him. And so I finally let myself lay, wrapped about and around him, with him around me. His head was cradled to my breast and his breaths became languid and deep. Murmuring one last line to soothe him, I was soon asleep as well… "Without you, I am your dream, only that, and that is all. "


	4. There's Got To Be A Morning After

I awoke the next morning to a hand clasped around my neck. Used, as I was, to sleeping alone, I groggily wondered why I was doing that and was trying to make my hand go away when a raspy voice growled in my ear and dispelled all bleariness.

"Who are you and where am I?"

"Sirius, I-"

The grip tightened and my throat made an odd squelching sound.

"How do you know my name?!"

I tried to speak but my voice wouldn't come, leaving me to try speaking directly to his mind. I was sure the invasiveness of this would alarm him even further, so I quickly tried to think of the shortest explanation I could.

"I saved your life- ask Buckbeak."

His face changed slightly- he'd forgotten the hippogriff in his confusion upon waking in a strange place, and hadn't thought to check on him yet. He raised the hand that wasn't occupied with the business of choking me and I saw that it held my wand. He let go of me long enough for me choke in one lungful of air then pointed the wand to my chest- "Impedimenta!"

As if I were bound by invisible cords, my arms went to my sides and I toppled slightly, back onto the bed. Well, it could have been worse- at least I didn't fall with my face smothered by pillows.

Sirius ran to the door and began shouting for Buckbeak. He was so frantic that his voice seemed to amplify. Almost instantly I heard Buckbeak's distinct footfalls outside the door. But his hearty, "hail fellow well-met!" was cut off by Sirius' cries.

"Have they hurt you? Are you all right, Buckbeak?"

"What are you on about? Of course no one's hurt me!"

"The woman inside, she said she helped me, but- wait, when did you start talking?"

"Amarice put a spell on me. Kinda fun, actually. And she's quite smart- fixed you rather well. Where is she?"

I could not see Sirius' face from my position, but I could imagine his expression, and could just discern the body language of someone who quickly finds themselves feeling exceptionally stupid.

"She… ah, that is…"

"You stunned her, didn't you? You stupid git! Go fix her! Amarice?"

Judging by the sound of things, Buckbeak was trying, unsuccessfully, to gain entry through the too-small doorway and finally settled on only his head entering the cottage.

My invisible restraints disappeared and I was able to sit up. I could see Sirius, looking like a chastised little boy, approach and gingerly lay my wand on the bed beside me. I picked it up and flicked it toward the door, muttering, "Engorgio." The frame expanded obediently, admitting Buckbeak, who towered over Sirius and resumed his tirade.

"Bloody good thanks to the woman what opened her home to the both of us and saved your rotten life! First thing you do is attack her! In her own home! Couldn't just ask a simple question and get a simple answer-"

"Buckbeak!" My voice doesn't work especially well, but well enough to be heard.

"Amarice- are you all right? Did he hurt you?"

I tried to say yes, but saying his name seemed to have used the extent of my capabilities. After a few moments of fruitless attempts, during which Buckbeak glowered even more and Sirius appeared to actually grow smaller, I finally managed a pathetic assurance.

"No, you're not all right, obviously! You can't speak, and you've got a bruised neck! Sirius- apologize!"

"Buckbeak!" My voice sounded odd, but in light of being able to speak at all, I didn't want to quibble. "I'm certain that most people in Sirius's position would have awoken feeling confused and wary of their surroundings- he's a hunted man, for goodness's sake. I should have taken measures to ensure that I would wake up first so I could explain things to him. It's my fault as much as his."

"No, it really isn't," Sirius sighed. "A smarter man would have woken up, realized he was whole and healthy, safely tucked up in bed next to a beautiful woman, and thanked his stars- me- I get all suspicious. I am… so, so sorry, madam."

I had to try not to dwell on the fact that he called me beautiful and my initial response (wondering if that was because he was flattering me so that I would forgive his transgression, or whether he really thought I was… beautiful). That wasn't the important thing, him saying I was beautiful… something else had to be… Like the fact that was sinking to his knees in front of me, still apologizing, and reaching to assess any damage to my neck. The curiously mingled sensation of his tender touch against the newly sore place where, even now, I knew bruises were appearing, was enough to make me nearly groan. I suppressed the sound, but my eyes closed and I bit my lip, all the same.

When I opened my eyes, he was looking up at me quizzically.

"Is it that bad?"

Stopping myself from saying, "No- it's that _good_," I replied instead- "No, it's fine."

"If I could borrow your wand, I could heal the bruises."

"No- really, I promise you, they're fine where they are."

His expression darkened for only an instant, then eased itself back into one of concern, and I knew what he was thinking, so I quickly added-

"I assure you- it has nothing whatsoever to do with trusting you with a wand. I just like having bruises. Great- now you either think that I really don't trust you with my wand and I was making up the lamest lie ever, or that I am the bruise-loving freak… Here, I'll show you."

I handed him my wand asked him to get me a banana.

"Banana?"

"There's one on the counter over there."

"You want me to get you a banana?"

"No, I want the banana. But I figured you could get it and see for yourself that I'm fine with you using my wand. Here, it was a stupid idea- I'll do it."

But as soon as I reached for the wand, he pointed it to the counter and said, "Accio Banana." The piece of fruit came soaring through the air and hit Sirius on the back of the head.

"See, Sirius- even the banana thinks you need to be hit on the head," explained Buckbeak.

"Stuff it, you. I'm sorry miss- you seem to know my name, but I don't know yours."

"Sorry- I should've said. It's Amarice."

"Lovely name- I've never heard it before. Hopefully, that'll help me remember it; I'm terrible with names. At any rate," he held out the banana to me, "here's your banana."

"It's for you anyway. Eat up! I'll go make some breakfast, but you need something to tide you over."

I went to the corner that was my kitchen and began to realize that my food supplies, while sufficient for my tastes and needs, would need replenishing rather soon. Soon as in yesterday.

Sirius followed me, sitting on a bar stool at the island to the right of my stove. Buckbeak elected to return to the out-of-doors, after once more reminding Sirius that he was an ungrateful wretch. Sirius waved him away and happily went on munching on his banana. Once he finished, I poured him a sizable cup of juice.

"What is that?"

"Dragonfruit juice. Trust me- you need it. You're dehydrated and your blood sugar is probably insanely low. Once you've drunk that, you're going to drink lots and lots of water."

"Yes, Mother. What is that you're making?"

"Um… pop tarts. Don't you like Pop Tarts?"

"I've no idea what they are."

"They're, ah… small, jelly-filled pastries. With sprinkles. Except these are chocolate, not jelly."

"That sounds… nice…"

"No, I guess they don't sound nice, but trust me- they're yummy. Besides, when I get up in the morning, I have just enough energy to heat these up and brew some coffee. More than that is beyond me. Here…" searching for something to feed him that might qualify as half-way healthy (the Dragonfruit juice was really about the limit of my stores), I found a small silver bag. "Have some honey-roasted peanuts."

Sirius didn't seem to mind the less-than-luxe offerings, mentioning that he'd mostly subsisted on rats for the last year. He became noticeably more chipper as he ate and we eventually moved to sit on the sofa in front of the fireplace as I forced yet another cup of water on him, to go with the coffee I made for us both.

"So, you fixed me?"

"I guess so, yes. You could say that."

"Was I dying when I got here? Last thing I remember was feeling like I was about to go."

"No, not dying. More like… when you were attacked, the dementors took your soul in the direction of exiting your body, in a way. Harry stopped them and you were sort of okay, but… Okay, if your soul was a screw, the dementors worked really hard at unscrewing it. And, however long you were in Azkaban, that whole time they were loosening it. They didn't unscrew it completely, but it was loose and wobbly. I just screwed you back into place." I blushed at the appropriate double entendre I hadn't intended when I began speaking. Before he could ask me to elaborate, I hurriedly changed the subject.

"I should tell you- Remus is fine. He's kind of beaten up, but he's fine other than that. Safe in the hospital wing of Hogwarts."

"How do you know about him?"

"You were asking after him, in a way, and Buckbeak told me who he was. I sent an owl to Dumbledore, asking about his welfare. He fire-called me back and answered my question."

"Ah, Dumbledore- doesn't miss a trick, that man. Then again, you don't seem to, either."

"Me?"

"I didn't even know there was a spell to give animals human speech, and even if I did, I don't know if it would occur to me to use it on a hippogriff with a shady-looking, nearly comatose man on his back who just showed up at my house out of the blue some night. Where did you learn that spell?"

"Oh, I made it up. Or wrote it. Or created it- I don't know what to call it. But I did it."

"Have you created any others?"

"A few, here and there- nothing special. Are you feeling better?"

"Loads, actually. What next?"

"Next? I've no idea. What do you want to happen next?"

He smiled a wicked smile and his eyes met mine. My blood quickened and I blushed, but didn't look away. Given all that had already passed between us, it seemed almost strange to bother with flirtation at all, let alone anything as subtle as a smile and a look. He could have simply raised an eyebrow, said a few key words, and I would have been naked on his lap in a heartbeat.

But he didn't even know what we'd done. Not consciously, at least. If I did what I felt like doing- if I grabbed a hank of that curly hair, forced his head back, and began to trace his tattoos with my tongue once more- he would, no doubt, be shocked and appalled. Rightfully so, but the thought still made me feel a bit downhearted.

His eyes, still on mine, were so dark- a combination of blue and green, too much of both to be either exactly, but I could spend hours staring, trying to decide which was more prevalent. The impish grin played across all of his features, and I wanted to kiss the crinkles it was putting at the edges of his eyes.

"You look like you have an idea, Mr. Black."

He leaned forward. "I certainly have."


	5. Coffee and Cigarettes

_**Disclaimer: I still don't own any of the characters J.K. Rowling created in the writing of Harry Potter. They belong to her, and I mean nothing by my slight poaching. I just like to play with them sometimes. Please don't sue me.**_

_Author's Note: Sorry, I'm still working out the formatting of submissions on this site and am still, obviously, at a loss regarding certain things. Sorry about the chapter that came out underlined… not sure how that happened, or how to fix it. If you're still following along- thanks! And, again, feel free to review- I can use all the feedback I can get, even if it's just someone saying that they like what I'm doing. _

The smile melted away as quickly as it came. Whatever he'd seemed about to say became lost as he leaned his head to the side and his eyelids slid closed. A heavy sigh escaped from between his lips- as if clearing the air out of him so something else, something heavy and sad, would have enough room to spread out, make itself at home.

I leaned forward and finally gave myself permission to give in the need to touch him. I lay a hand to the side of his face and traced my thumb across his lips. He smiled, but his eyes remained closed.

"Sirius- Sirius, are you all right? What's wrong?"

He caught my wrist and removed my hand. Realizing the possibility that my touch had, been presumptuously intimate, I began to apologize, but he stopped me by opening his eyes and speaking quite suddenly-

"Exactly what did you do to heal me?"

I hesitated, but only for a moment. I hadn't had time to formulate a response to this inevitable question, so I decided to just go for it- "I put dittany on your cuts. Then I gave you a massage and I sang some lullabies. And then I fucked you."

"Ah." He set my hand down, upon the sofa between us. "I thought that must have been it, but you seemed so- what's the word- nonchalant. I wasn't sure."

I moved further back, leaning into, curled into and against the arm of the sofa, as if trying to get lost in its aubergine and velvet depths.

"I knew you wouldn't remember, and I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. It's not a circumstance in which I've ever found myself, and caution is the better part of valor."

"But fortune favors the brave, Amarice. Were you going to tell me, or ask me about it?"

"Yes, of course! I was trying to suss out how you'd feel about it. I hoped you'd understand that I used a combination of things to help you and that I did what I had to do, that I had no choice. I don't want you thinking that it- that I- it was the only-"

"Amarice! No, no- don't worry! I understand!"

He moved to his knees and across to me, so that he was looking directly into my eyes, his face inches from mine. I felt so strange, so awkward, so afraid he'd be upset or offended, that I found myself avoiding his gaze, looking down. He took my chin between his thumb and forefinger and gently lifted my face until I had to meet his unwavering gaze again.

"I promise that I understand and I'm grateful to you. You don't need to worry about me. Truly."

Once my moment of intense worry passed, I felt ridiculous. I'd decided to be mature and stand behind my decision- because it was the right one. So what was with the simpering? Where did the self-doubt come from? And why could I think of nothing past a thousand excuses to touch him, to pull him down on top of me and wrap my legs around his waist? What in the name of Merlin's beard was happening to me?

"Why are you so afraid of me?" Sirius's eyes were searching. They broke contact with mine only long enough for him to settle back into a seated position.

I sighed and shrugged.

"I have no idea. All of a sudden, I worried that you'd think less of me for what I did and I just couldn't bear the thought. I know it was a silly thought, and only a passing one at that, but there you are."

"Does my opinion of you matter as much as that?"

I nodded, suddenly trying to remember where my cigarettes were. My hands were trembling and I could only assume it was the need for nicotine. I couldn't let myself even form the thought that I was shaking because of the way his hand had felt clasped around my wrist, the softness of his lips underneath my thumb.

"Why should my opinion matter?" Sirius got up and began to follow me around as I wandered from table to table and finally found the box of cigarettes. I lit one with my wand and nearly groaned with relief as I exhaled and the delicious poison began to course through my veins.

"I have no idea, Sirius. No, that's a lie- I do know. It's just…" Why couldn't I finish a sentence, or a complete thought? I put the cigarette to my lips and inhaled again. I looked to him, moving my eyes more than my head, and saw him staring at my lips as I blew smoke from between them. I turned my head more, looking at him over my shoulder, then raised my eyebrows at him, and he seemed to be gathering his thoughts before he spoke again.

"But you don't know me- we're virtually strangers. It isn't as though you owe me anything, let alone explanations."

I narrowed my eyes, in a way meant to convey disbelief rather than disdain.

"You believe that, do you?"

It was his turn to sigh and shrug. He leaned against a nearby wall, running a hand through his hair in an absent-minded gesture.

"No. I don't- not really… or, not at all. Could I have one of those cigarettes?"

"You smoke?"

"No, but just now I think I'd like one."

"Good, good. Take up all the bad habits you can, darling."

I crossed to him and gave him a cigarette, then lit it for him. The quietness seemed to echo around us as he tentatively began to drag away. I waved a wand at the stereo and Otis Redding came simmering out, covering the blank spots in the conversation when, I hoped, Sirius's thoughts were as defiant to order and sense as mine were. Otis began to croon- to growl and whimper and explain to us that he'd been loving us to long to stop now. That was nice of him.

"That's not accurate."

"Which part?"

"You said before that I don't remember what happened. I do, in a way."

"What, exactly, do you remember?" I was fascinated- partly because I did what I did thinking that my actions would have no witness, and partly because I was interested in what it felt like to be inside of what I'd seen.

I took the cigarettes and walked back to the sofa. Instead of sitting upon it, I sat in front of it, and leaned back against it. I reached underneath it and pulled out a dinner plate that I frequently used as an ashtray. Each time I used it I would carefully clean it and then return it to its dwelling place.

"Not to change the subject," Sirius said, sitting next to me, but leaving the plate between us, "but did that happen to be there and so you're using it, or do you keep it there on purpose?"

"The logic is, that if I keep random things under the couch on purpose, I'll always remember where they live. Go on."

And so, smoking contemplatively, Sirius paraphrased the events that lead him to my door.

"Once we flew away from Hogwarts, the doubts came. It was like the dementors left me with some sort of virus that woke up and began to spread once I began to let myself doubt and fear.

"I was thinking all these thoughts, like that no one would ever know the truth, and that those who did, didn't really care. What could I even offer Harry? A life on the run? Eating rodents while hiding in caves to avoid detection? And what would happen to him if I were ever recaptured? I had no way to clear my name, no way to even earn a decent living. Would I have to resort to thievery to survive- would I become what they'd accused be of being?

"And then, the doubts and fears overcame me and I could feel myself slipping into the proverbial slough of despond. And I passed out, went into it all the way. I went someplace… dark. Shrank back into my own brain, I suppose, and started to give up, surrender.

"I was almost aware of the world around me, but I was so far away that I couldn't care anymore. After a while I seemed to no longer be in the air, seemed to be lying somewhere, but I couldn't tell. All I thought was that, somehow, I was being given back to the dementors. It seems that every time I think I've escaped them, I get thrown back again, one more time.

"But then, I felt someone… touch me. I don't think you can understand- few could… I was in Azkaban for so long… And then I was running. That night, that night at the Shrieking Shack, Remus hugged me. And then Harry did, too- it was the first time in so, so many years that I had been touched with affection or kindness, instead of punched, beaten, or kicked. But this touch, the touch I received then, was different. It was- I'm guessing it was you, right?"

I nodded, unable to speak for fear I'd startle him and he would lose the words he was trying so hard to say. I just handed him another cigarette, and took one for myself.

"You didn't hug me, you did more. I could smell all these things and that just made it more intense, like the scent of lavender was carrying your touch into my very being. Merlin, that sounds idiotic, but it's what it felt like. But you touched me… so deliberately, with such tenderness and care. And you sang to me- sang songs- and it was all so accepting and careful and tender and…

"Do you know what it does to your soul, your very soul, to not be touched? It breaks, it dies, it withers and blows away like dead leaves.

"You made me feel and think more than I had in years. I had no idea how tired it had made me, when all I could feel was hatred and grief. Even before what happened to Lilly and James, we'd been at war for forever it seemed. We got so used to being scared and so righteously angry all the time. I gave up dating, taking lovers, anything like that; it all seemed so pointless in light of the horrors we were facing.

"No one had ever touched or loved me the way you did last night- not even my mother, not for as long as I could remember, not in all of my childhood. And it was like I came screaming back to myself, just because I had to find out who could be so kind to me, who could give me so much just by touching me and singing to me- it sounds like such a small thing to do, to have it effect me so much…

"But I couldn't wake up, even though I tried. I couldn't speak, or move. All I could do was lay there, with you on top of me. Even the weight of you on my chest was reassuring…

"And then when you- that is, when I- when, um…" His voice faltered as he searched for words and his eyes moved away from mine. I decided to help him out.

"You mean, when you were inside me."

"Yes, thanks- wasn't exactly sure how to put it. Once you took me inside of you, that's when I figured I must be dead."

"Dead…?" I prompted.

"Yes. I assumed that I'd somehow gotten to some sort of heaven- a loophole-laden place, but a sort of heaven at any rate."

"Why would you think that?"

"Are you kidding?" He smiled then, and his time spent talking as though narrating some intense inner monologue seemed over. "First, the touching, and all that lavender and peppermint, then- if you don't mind me saying- the best sex I've ever had? I must have died. I must have died and gone to lavender-scented sex-heaven. Sure, it sounds odd, but it's what I thought had happened.

"So, I stopped trying to wake up and just enjoyed it." He smiled as he finished, and seemed to have decided that the tale had been told, he's said all he had to say.

"So… at first, you were curious, but then you figured you were dead and decided to accept and enjoy your visit from the Fairy of Fucking?"

He laughed. "Yes. Well put."

This was a lot to digest. Number one- I was pleased that my ministrations had done exactly what I had hoped they would accomplish. Number two- they'd worked better than I could have devised. Number three- the sex was good enough to convince him he was dead? That had to be one of the most superlative assessments of a sexual encounter that I'd ever heard. I was filled with a mixture of incredulity and worry about what all he was saying could end up meaning.

"But I finally did," he decided to continue, "manage to move my hands enough to hold on for dear life. God, Amarice, you almost blew my head off! And I opened my eyes and saw you…" He leaned over and took a lock of my hair between his fingers. "… and I thought that I'd never seen an angel with purple hair. So, maybe I wasn't dead."

He smiled and then sighed, "If wishes were horses then beggars would ride."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Just that it was my first sexual encounter in fifteen years- I wish I'd been able to participate a bit more, is all. It's been so long since I touched a woman, or just held someone… smelled their skin." He chuckled sardonically and shook his head. "I sound bloody stupid- like some half-wit attempting to write poetry or something. Don't get me wrong- I enjoyed it a hell of a lot. But I can't even remember it properly."

"I'm so sorry, Sirius- if there was another way, I could've-"

"No! First of all, there was no other way. Secondly, it was one of the most amazing experiences I've ever had- it meant more to me than any other encounter I've had with any other woman! It's so foolish to sit around and wish any of it would have been different because it was something that had a single imperfection. A small one, at that."

"For what it's worth," I leaned forward and whispered in a "just between you and me" voice, "we didn't kiss. So, you still have control over that- you still get to decide and with who that will be."

"Trust me when I say that any difficulties I have with anything that happened and whether or not I chose them myself have nothing to do with the fact that they involved you, Amarice."


	6. Coming Out of My Cage

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sirius, Howarts, Dumbledore or many of the other things found herein. Amarice is my own creation. Otis Redding isn't (but "These Arms of Mine" is still one of the greatest songs ever written).**

_Author's Note: I keep titling chapters after song titles and lyrics, just because it's the way I think. Sometimes it has to do with what I'm listening to as I write something, or what I think the characters are listening to as they play. I own absolutely no rights to any of the songs I've mentioned or quoted, they're just things I love. _

_Also, sorry this chapter is so long... I just couldn't break it up. It felt like it was all too connected with the rest of it. This is the end of what I have written so far, but I plan to write more. Feel free to review and offer opinions about anything I'm doing that you either like or don't, and, as always, thank you for bothering to read my ramblings._

He traced a finger down my cheek and gazed into my eyes- the intimacy and intensity of the gesture and of his look caused me to draw a deep breath. He brushed my hair back, tucking it behind my ear, and laced his fingers through it, continuing to stroke my face with his thumb, the whole time looking at me in a way that made my toes curl and my insides begin to pucker and melt at the same time. I couldn't help myself from closing my eyes as his thumb trailed circles around my brow, my eye. When he moved his thumb to my lips, I finally forced myself to voice the warning I knew I should have spoken minutes… hours… earlier.

"Sirius… don't think this is me."

He moved his other hand so that he was cradling my face and looked at me inquiringly.

I bit my lip and gazed down- I couldn't bear to say what I had to if I kept looking into those eyes of his.

"Don't think that what you're feeling is for me, and don't think it's real. It… it was the magic- it'll do that. It'll confuse you, make you think more of me than you ought. Make you think that you… Nothing that happened had to do with me, and anything you're feeling isn't really for me. Don't try to make it real- it isn't. You think it's real because you feel like it is, but that doesn't make it so."

He turned my face until I had to confront his eyes and wouldn't let go.

"Maybe it is real, and you're the one trying too hard to pretend that it isn't. It was real, it is real- the fact that I'm here, alive and whole, is testament to that fact. Maybe thinking it's real is enough to make it so. Why does that seem so difficult for you?"

I shook my head. "Because, I've seen- that is, I've caused… Sometimes people get confused- somewhere between magic and what they think happens, they let themselves get carried away. I can have that effect on people."

I owed him an explanation, I knew, but to say more was too painful. But I needed to make him believe that what he was thinking and feeling for me were not things based on reality, they were based on…Hecate help me, the Thrall. But I hated explaining it to people, I hated the look in their eyes when they would inevitably realize that a certain kind of deception had occurred, and they always blamed me. Not that I didn't deserve it, but it was always easier to accept the entirety of the blame than to get them to accept their own part, their willingness to believe a lie, just because it made them happy. Or it made them think they were happy…

Aside from any of that, I knew that, if I were honest, I was believing the lie myself. I was starting to believe that what had happened was real, that it mattered, that it meant everything I wanted it to mean- that his soul and mine had knit together in that exquisite moment of ecstasy and that we now belonged to one another. I wanted to believe that this was real, that I'd finally found someone with whom I wouldn't need to use all the shields I'd built over the years, the shields to protect other people from me, from my power. That I could find that mythical kind of peace- the kind only afforded by the arms of another. What did Wharton call it? "The darkness made by enfolding arms, the silence which is not solitude but compassion holding its breath."

"Amarice- what aren't you telling me?"

I pulled his hands away from my face and turned to look away, at anything else, my eyes finally resting on the burned logs in the fireplace. I was shakily drawing a breath when I noticed what song the stereo was playing and couldn't stop myself from beginning to cry. It was as if the universe itself was conspiring against me- bringing all these things together to shatter all of my defenses, leave me broken, leave me naked and shivering in the dark…

"Sirius, can I ask an entirely silly question? You can say no, if you like, but I want to ask."

I still refused to look at him, so I couldn't read his face, but I heard a hesitation in his voice as he replied, "Of course."

"I feel childish even asking, but… Would you dance with me?"

"Dance with you?"

"Do you know what song this is, that's playing right now? It's called 'These Arms of Mine,' and it's being sung by a man named Otis Redding. It's my favorite song- well, one of them. Listen…"

With a thought toward the stereo, I increased the volume and closed my eyes as it enveloped me in waves. I'd spent many hours listening to this song for so long that I would slip into a trance almost, overwhelmed by the aching melancholy of Mr. Redding putting my need for human contact into perfect words, phrases and vocal anguish.

In my stupor I somehow, someday, came to the thought that if someone, just once, held me in their arms while the song played and wove its spell, my demon would be exorcised, the charm would be broken. If, for one instant, I could complete the circuit, the power would burn away the eternal sadness of my solitude- I would be free.

I turned the volume back down and resumed talking, trying not to give any sign of the cock-eyed weight carried by my request. I knew it was juvenile, like making my father check the closet for monsters before I could sleep at night. I always knew, in that case, that it was his willingness to indulge and help me that really banished the spooks, but it was enough for me. I hoped this might work the same way.

"I've never actually danced with anyone. I know it seems asinine, and it is, but it's always bothered me. I figure that it's trivial enough that you can just say no and we can talk about something else."

"Never danced with anyone? Didn't they have balls or dances at your school? Have you never gone to a dance club? Are you not old enough to get in?"

"No, I'm plenty old. I could get into the clubs, and there were dances at Hogwarts, I suppose. But not really. I, ah, deal poorly with being in crowds."

I was staring intently enough at the fireplace that I didn't see him get to his feet, but when he reached down and took my hand, I looked up to his smiling face and all of my embarrassment melted away, was forgotten, left on the floor as I stood and felt his arms go around me. Not being familiar with the act of dancing, I couldn't have told you if it was normal, or just something about the two of us, but he took my right hand in his left, wrapped his right arm securely around my waist, and we fit so perfectly- it was as if I had been born for just this moment, when his fingers would enfold mine. I felt that, crazy though it was, I was right and my demons began to flee.

He was only a few inches taller than me, so our faces were closer together than I expected. I'd somehow thought that I could nestle my head against his chest and continue our conversation without having to watch him react. Instead of considering that, I nodded toward the stereo, turning the volume up and starting the song over again. With his hand on the small of my back, he began to lead me into tiny, swaying circles, and I followed. Our breathing began to, not match, but flow together, his inhalation following mine, the rhythms of the song beating through us both until our hearts were in synch with the music and each other.

And, dammit, against all logic and reason, it happened. With his arms around me, the world ceased its turning. I knew that I could tell him the truth about me, my past, my likely future, and he would only keep holding me. I knew that he would love me, that he did already, and all that was left was for me to allow him. Simple though it seemed- but then the greatest things always are simple, lest they be too easy to find. Human nature is to always look too hard to be able to see past our own nose.

The song ended and 'Try A Little Tenderness' began to play. Yes, I do get weary, sir.

I laid my forehead to his cheek, and tried to keep my voice from indicating the presence of tears, treacherously trailing down my face. He took my hand and held it to his chest, letting me feel the beat of his heart.

"Was this what you wanted?"

"This is more than I wanted. No, actually, it's exactly what I wanted- I'm a little terrified. Sorry- it must seem such a small thing, but I never trusted myself to dance with anyone else."

"Why is that?"

"How about I tell you a story? I think that would be the simplest approach to all of this. But can we keep dancing?"

I could hear his smile in his voice. "We can do whatever you want to do."

I sighed and allowed myself the luxury of smelling his neck as I inhaled, just to check. And there it was- just his scent sped up my heart rate, sent heat all through my body- I knew that my chest would be flushed, I could feel my cheeks enflame, and my lips became engorged with blood, hopeful of contact in the near future. Yes, my body seemed to react as if it had found a life mate in Sirius… not that I'd ever believed in things like that, my grandfather's stories aside.

"When my mother married my father, she thought she was a Squib. She did, he did, her family did- she'd never shown any sign of magical powers. None, whatsoever. Luckily, she was American, and over in the States, Squibs are treated better than I'm lead to understand they are treated here. Her family was never ashamed of her, they never told her she wasn't good enough. And my dad didn't, either. His sister had been, not a Squib, but something almost similar, and his brother had always been ashamed of her- which is one of the bones of contention that lead him to America in the first place. His sister died and he was so disgusted with his brother that he crossed an ocean to get away from him, from the family name. He never cared if my mother was a Squib.

"They hadn't consummated their relationship until their wedding night, and when they did… My mother had never had sex with anyone before that, either, it was her first time. That was when they found out she wasn't a Squib- not a bit. See, she had enormous powers, all kinds of magics, but the sex was the key that unlocked them all. That first night, her powers were awoken and she accidentally broke my father's back. It could have been worse- and he said that, after that one night, he needed to recuperate anyway, so he was fine with being laid up for a while so they could heal him.

"My mother had known that her great, great-grandfather had been a vampire, but no one in the family had ever seen anything to indicate that there were any particular characteristics that go along with that which had been passed along to anyone. They figured the, um, affliction, had died with great-great-great-grandpa. They were wrong, of course. It just took a couple generations to come to a head. My mother was the first in the line to show the signs- it's not exactly the same as vampirism, and much more controllable… but it's there, all the same. It was sort of like a virus, one that had been mixing itself with wizard blood as if to make itself stronger.

"They were slightly worried when I came along, but I seemed to be a normal enough child. By the time I was eleven I was not showing extraordinary signs of anything strange, so when the letter came, inviting me to Hogwarts, we packed up and moved back here."

"Aren't there wizarding schools in the States?"

"Yes, but my uncle isn't the headmaster of those. He delivered my letter of admittance personally, and began trying to reconcile with my father. Dad was still quite angry with his brother, but he decided that I should have a chance at the best magical education possible. So, I went to Hogwarts, Mom and Dad moved to Hogsmeade to be close. Dad opened a pub, The Hog's Head."

"Wait- you mean Dumbledore? He's your uncle? And the man who runs The Hog's Head is his brother?"

"Yes. Dad still has difficulty trusting Albus, so he maintains a slight distance. Think about it- he's the younger, not as special brother of one of the most famous wizards in the world. He moved all the way to Massachusetts to escape the shadow of his brother; he's not too keen to attempt to capitalize on their connection even now.

"But Albus has only ever been very, very kind and understanding to me. I think, in the years between Arianna's death and our arrival back in England he'd learned a lot, changed his mind about many things. He'd started becoming the man that everyone now knows and admires- the kind, understanding, open-hearted Headmaster.

"I was a perfectly normal witch for my first term at school, but then… When I began to menstruate, I began to display certain traits of vampirism, different enough from even my mother's case that I would have certainly become quite the curio had Albus not been looking out for me.

"What, exactly happened, was that… oh, this is embarrassing. I started to, unknowingly and against my will, exude a pull on everyone around me. They call it The Thrall. Without me doing anything, people wanted to be close to me, to do things for me. Well, that's how it started. It wasn't sexual, at least not overtly, not in a way that any of us knew- they just wanted to be near me. But that was the start- people fighting over me and my favor. And then, it wasn't just the students- the teachers got hit with it, too. They all started grading on curves and putting me on the top every time. They'd give me extra credit just for coming to class, or staying awake, or sharpening my quill. Albus began to hear tales of the goings-on and put two and two together.

"For a while the problem was fixed by a charm he put on me that stopped my monthly bleeding. It worked to stop the teachers from being effected by me, but it ended up being slightly powerless against the other students. Turns out, I'm not the sort of creature you can set loose in a school filled with witches and wizards who haven't entirely learned to control their powers and who have hormone levels bordering on the insane. I know it sounds silly, but it was just the strangest, scariest thing. I became this strange combination of Miss Congeniality and a complete pariah. Some fell victim, and some avoided me like a plague so that they wouldn't.

"I had to move in with Mom and Dad again- my teachers came to our home to teach me. Professor Snape-" Did he flinch when I said that name? "- gave me lessons in Occlumency, and that helped a lot. I found ways of shielding my powers and controlling them so that they couldn't spontaneously leak out and affect people when I didn't want them to. No, that's not right- I never wanted my powers to have the effect they had on anyone. I never wanted to be surrounded by people who thought they loved me but didn't, and that's what I was. It sounds like it might be nice, but when you know how false all of the devotion is, and that your own magic prevents true, real love from being possible, it all just hurts more and more.

"When I came of age I became even better at controlling things, but to be on the safe side, I moved here. I don't see many people, few see me. I've rather resigned myself to the solitude, the loneliness. And it's okay, it could be worse.

"See, Sirius, I've had the experience of having someone think they loved me, and they felt it so strongly that they almost willed it into reality. Even since I've known what I am, there are moments when I let myself get carried away- when I think, maybe this time it's really true, maybe this person does love me, maybe it's not just that I'm inadvertently brainwashing them into thinking it. Maybe we're not just fooling each other. It's never the case, though. For the most part, the only people who are devoted to me in a way that I can trust are family members (they're immune, thank Hecate) and animals. That's why I created that spell- animals are safer companions for me than humans."

"I know you think that what happened last night was real, and I'm not saying it wasn't. I'm just saying…" By now we'd stopped dancing, we were just standing there, his arms around my waist, mine around his neck, with my head nestled under his chin.

"I just mean that people sometimes think things about me, but they aren't always their own thoughts. I appreciate that you're grateful, and I'm glad I could help you. I just don't think we should get carried away."

"Do you want to get carried away?"

I raised my head to see his face, and gazed into his eyes. For the first time in so long, I began to loosen the shields I had built to protect other people. I lowered them, just a few bricks from the wall, and kept looking into his eyes. I let my power squeeze out, a bit, just to show him, and I could tell he was feeling it. His eyes went wider, just for a moment. I touched his face and he leaned down a bit. I trailed my fingertips across his forehead, his brows, and he closed his eyes to my touch, whispering my name.

"Sirius, if I get carried away, I have no idea what will happen to you. Or me, for that matter. All I know is that, last night, I let myself use more of my magic than I ever have in a situation with only one other person, without a spotter, so to speak. You're still here, you're still fine. For all I know, you're immune or something. But I had to tell you. You need to know what I am, what could happen, before you say anything else. Before you try to promise me anything, you have to understand."

He raised his hands to my face, once more taking it, holding it. He was so close we could have kissed, and I bit my lip to stop myself from lunging for him. He was so close- I could feel his breath on my skin, I could almost feel his heart beating, could hear his blood in his veins, hear it rushing faster now, and I knew it was because of me. Our eyes were level and neither of us wanted to look away.

"'I do not know what it is within you that closes and opens- I only know that the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses.' I never met anyone who had eyes that spoke so much…"

"What are my eyes saying?"

"That you are completely terrified of how much you want me. Your eyes say that you want me as much as I want you, but you're so afraid that I'm going to hurt you, that it will be your fault, whatever happens. Whatever goes wrong, and you're so sure it will. You're trying to weigh the whole thing out- decide if it's worth it. I know it's crazy- we're so barely acquainted, but last night, what passed between us was real, whether you will it so or not. The fact that you're the first person I've ever thought I want to be with for eternity, it's real, too. And you feel it to, but you can't trust it. Amarice, I promise…"

He stopped there, the words ceased. Instead, he closed the distance between us and placed the tenderest kiss on my lips. Tender, with all the care in the world, with all the love and trust in the world- and that was his promise. His promise that he wouldn't break me, that he wouldn't leave, that he wouldn't be caught up in the insanity that followed me like a stray dog.

And in that moment, the promise was everything. I began to kiss him back, and felt blinded by the perfection of his face touching mine, his breath whispering into me, mine wandering back to him. And that was when I knew- real or not, it didn't matter. All that mattered was him.


	7. Nothing Even Matters

**Disclaimer- I don't own anything Jo Rowling owns. Or anything that Pablo Neruda wrote. Or the Lauryn Hill/D'Angelo song.**

_Author's Note: This chapter brings us back to some the racier aspects of the story, and some of those racier aspects are a bit... well... it's not even BDSM, it's itty-bitty-baby BDSM undertones. If that offends, please stop reading now._

Sirius broke our kiss and I looked up at him, knowing my eyes were heavy-lidded and dark- I was vastly relieved to see the same look of happiness and expectation on his face. He smiled and I smiled back, vaguely wondering what would come next.

His answer to my unspoken question was to kiss my forehead. I closed my eyes, just feeling the loveliness of his lips pressed to me- I didn't really care where they were, so long as they were on me. He gingerly kissed my eyelids, then kissed the sides of my face, my nose, and his hands slipped from my hair to my neck, touching, as if he would memorize every inch of flesh there, as if to learn how each time he touched me, my breath seemed to change all over again. His fingers brushed the bruises from earlier and this time I gave in to the pleasure by sighing.

Instead of moving to my mouth, he moved slightly aside, pushing my hair back and kissing the sensitive skin underneath my ear. I heard him draw in his breath and realized he was inhaling me, the scent of my skin, of my hair. I leaned my head the other way, to give him better access- his fingers in my hair tightened their grasp, holding me in place. I gasped, relishing the feeling of surrendering to him, of giving way to his desires, wondering where they would lead.

He began to speak, his words muffled somewhat into my skin, but I caught, "With a chaste heart- with pure eyes..." He didn't really just quote _Ode To A Beautiful Nude_, did he? I was a beautiful nude?

"You seem to read a lot of poetry Mr. Black." I smiled and he looked at me.

"Never tell a soul." He stood back up to his full height, instead of bent over me, and the world felt colder with only that much distance between us. "But I adore poetry- I read it constantly. I never quote it, but just now, better men have said what I'm thinking so much better than I could. Do you mind?"

"Yes, of course I do- you're too romantic by half and I'm about to come with just your voice against my skin and your lips on my ear."

He leaned forward again, pressing his lips back to my ear, then my neck. I was already halfway gone, lost in a sort of delirium at the deliberation of his attention, but then he spoke, and his voice went straight through me, through my entire body and landed squarely between my legs… Dear Mother Gaia, how did he do that? How could a grown man quote poetry during love-making and have it result in anything other than me laughing at him?

"If you feel you are destined for me with implacable sweetness- in me all that fire is repeated..."

I responded to his voice by gasping- a loud, hungry sound that I felt embarrassed for having let slip. As he continued to whisper, eliciting more gasps and groans from me, he moved his fingers to the edge of my kimono where it lay on my shoulders. With one hand around my waist, holding me both to him and upright, the other traces again and again from the line of my hair, down my neck, to my shoulder, gently easing the red silk back, inch by inch. By the time he concluded the poem, my entire shoulder was bare and feeling as if it'd been consecrated by his assertive touch.

I inhaled, about to say something, Goddess only know what, when he suddenly turned his head and buried his teeth into the soft flesh just where my shoulder met my arm. Between the spell of his voice in my ear being broken by the sudden, delicate pain of his teeth and the sucking of his mouth over the newly inflicted wound, my legs gave way and I cried out as an orgasm broke over me, coming out of the blue and stealing my breath, my composure, everything except for his tongue and teeth.

When the world ceased spinning I looked up at him and found my voice, which had gone dry and caught in my throat, "Perhaps we should move to the bed. My legs aren't holding up so well."

"Did you really just…?"

"Yes. I know- I'm easy… sorry."

"No- trust me, I'm not complaining. You can walk…?"

I straightened back up but his arms stayed around my waist as I turned in his embrace and walked over to the bed. He was leaving kisses along the nape of my neck as we walked, nipping with his teeth every so often. I had to grit my teeth to stop from turning around, flinging him to the ground, and violating him again and again. But I reminded myself that this man had not had a sexual encounter in a very, very long time- the ravishing I felt he deserved could wait for another time… even if it killed me.

Thing was, I didn't have a lot of actual experience with moments like this, and I had no idea what to do, really. Each encounter is slightly different from the one before- what had I done last time I'd lead a lover to my bed? Had there even been a bed? Could I even remember the names or faces of anyone who wasn't Sirius? Probably not…

He answered my awkward wonderings before I could even ask them by taking my shoulders and gently lowering me onto the bed so that I was laying back, looking at him. Part of me felt self-conscious, but a bigger part was just looking at his face, the expression in his eyes as they raked over my body- they were filled with desire, yes, but something else… not awe, but something akin to it. As if he couldn't believe what was happening, that either of us were here, and I knew how he felt.

He lay on the bed next to me, on his right side, facing me. And then he kissed me again, holding my face, taking his time as he delved into me again, licking my tongue, my lips. I kissed him back, thrilling to each nuance of the flesh of his mouth, the sweet smoothness there- trying to ignore the frantic hunger this act was calling to the surface, trying not sink my teeth into his lip, to see exactly how much pressure it would take before he cried out, before his blood came- or before he groaned at the pleasure this could cause.

The kiss somehow deepened and I had to pull back for the sake of breathing, but I kept my lips just touching his, panting, breathing into his mouth, letting him hear in that sound exactly how much I liked what he did to me, and I heard his breathing quicken as well. I resumed the kiss, and this time his hand went to my neck, slipped around it, gently, feeling the skin more than anything else.

I made a small moaning noise and he quickly began to exert more pressure, just a bit more. My back arched of its own volition, driving me closer to him, and my breaths came in small moans. Without the kiss stopping, his grip tightened even more, and I arched enough that my head moved back, away from the kiss, and I could concentrate on the twinge of pain caused by his hand locking so decisively over the bruises from doing the same thing only a few hours ago. The pause also gave me time to calm my breathing, reminding myself that I was in for, hopefully, a long ride, and needed to pace myself.

He didn't bother to ask if I liked the bits of pain he'd delved out- he was observant enough to gauge my responses, and to gauge them correctly- I liked everything he did, but the biting, the squeezing, the hints of power and dominance were the things that I liked most. Eventually, somewhere down the road, the time would come when he'd learn the same thing about himself- I had a feeling that, like me, he could enjoy the possibilities of submitting or dominating, depending on his mood. Everything else seemed to flow so well, the two of us together- that detail couldn't be off, either.

But then his hand moved more toward the back of my head and he picked me up, hungrily taking my lips with his, his hand holding me in the kiss like a vice. I responded by grabbing his neck in my hands, and exerting the same force on him, not letting him move either. I moved a leg up, to his waist, and used that motion to propel myself up, moving him back and down, until he was half-laying against the headboard and I was straddling his lap. I felt him smile against my lips.

"How did you even do that- it's like I wasn't even looking…"

"Number one- you weren't. Number two- practice."

_Author's Note: This is shorter than I would have liked, but it's been a little while since I updated this, and this little bit is all I had. And, I know, it's cheesy as hell that he keeps reciting poetry- but I can't get him to stop._


	8. Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow

_Author's Note: Again with the randiness. Don't read if you don't like it. It's rated **M** for a reason, for Diana's sake._

His hands went to my waist, sliding over the silky material, which suddenly seemed much too thick a barrier to keep between us. I leaned back from him slightly and untied the belt, then lowered the robe from my the one shoulder it still covered and then down, until it pooled over his legs on which I was perched. He immediately slid his hands up over my naked back, hooked his hands over my shoulders and pulled me closer for a kiss. I wound my hands into his hair- it filled them and fell about them as they moved to caressing his neck, dragging nails and fingertips in indiscernible patterns, playing under the collar of his shirt and back up to ears- each time I grazed him, playfully pressing my nails to his skin, his breathing would become sharper, deeper, and I kept smiling against his lips.

With a thought toward the stereo (I do so like musical accompaniment), Lauryn Hill and D'Angelo began to play and I suddenly felt so happy, so complete in my happiness, that I embraced him by the neck, holding him to me, thinking that perhaps I would never let him go- that we could stay, just like this, when everything seemed so perfect, our desires so mutual, and nothing in the world but this. No worries about innocence or guilt, boys who lived- nothing mattered but the feel of his hair touching my neck, his breath on my chest, and the fact that his lips were opening to seal around the skin of my breast.

I began to move, pressing in a gentle rhythm against him, against the thin and worn trousers he wore which were all that separated his hardness from my increasingly wet slit. I felt him grow even harder and his teeth found purchase on my breast, just above the nipple. I clutched his head closer, asking for more, and he finally found my nipple with his lips, then his tongue, just as his hands found my hips and squeezed, hard enough to remind me of his mindless actions the night before, as if he were hanging on to me to keep from falling away, and another orgasm ripped through me, causing me to shout a single word- "Please!" and go ramrod straight upon him, my head rolling back.

I lifted my head and looked down to see him looking back at me, grinning. He kept grinning as he took the other nipple between his lips and began to vigorously suck, then took hold of it in his teeth, sucking harder still. I could only hold on for dear life as the slightly painful exertion of his mouth coupled with him dragging nails up and down my back and I came yet again, without words this time- just a high-pitched shriek and then going weak and limp against him.

He gently moved me up, off of him, and then laid me back on the bed as my breathing was calming to a more normal rate and laughed as he moved on top of me.

"Don't laugh- t'isn't polite, sir."

"Oh- I wasn't laughing at you… Your breasts are, well, fun. Those were really, truly orgasms, right? Not some sort of fake?"

I slapped his shoulder. "It is entirely too early in this relationship for me to bother with fakery. Yes, they were real- and, yes, I come if you pay attention to my breasts. Now you know…"

"I have a feeling that will prove one of my favorite pastimes in the future. Wait- you don't have some sort of limit do you- like if you come a couple times that's it?"

Now it was my turn to laugh. I took his hand and clasped it between my legs, where I was all but dripping. With my other hand I pulled his head close and spoke directly into his ear, "Does it seem to you that I'm done with coming, or that I'm just warming up?" And then I bit his neck as his fingers delved between my lips and searched- he quickly found my clitoris and my entire body jerked in response. But then his fingers swooped around and down, lower, finding every place therein and seeing what would make me twitch.

I kept my mouth to his neck, licking and then biting and then licking more, savoring the flavor of his sweat on my tongue, drawing ever nearer to his carotid artery, where I could, even now, hear the blood rushing, flowing ever faster, trying to keep up with all the places it needed to be just now. I could feel the heat emanating from it, and could even see it beating, calling me, asking for my teeth, for my mouth.

Just then he reached two fingers inside of me, and I forgot any intentions I had- the world seemed to hum, my vision blurred slightly, and I could think of nothing past his fingers exploring me, finding every place that needed to be touched, feeling my muscles reflexively closing again and again around them. My body arched, my pelvis raised, as if in offering to him, and his thumb kept tracing patterns up and around, gently encountering my clitoris and everything else as his fingers moved around and around and in and out, then finding my g-spot (which I hadn't even believed existed before that moment), and everything was gone, nothing existed except for a blinding sensation of perfection which seemed to come from his hands, inside of me, pouring out of my mouth as I exhaled, as I silently screamed, and then finally came back to myself, aware that his hand was now dripping wet and, dear Promethea- why were his clothes still on him?

I reached down, removing his hand, trying to calm the twitching that was still happening within me. I brought his hand to my lips, and began to suck on the two fingers that were just inside of me. I took them all the way to the back of my throat with no problems, then pulled them out, swirling my tongue over and over them, sucking them clean, moving my tongue up and down and around them, then letting them fill the wetness of my mouth again, being careful not to bite them. His eyes grew far away and his breathing more ragged as I took the fingers all the way back into my throat and laughed slightly, letting the reverberations touch them.

"Imagine- and I know you are," I spoke into his mind as my hand found its way to the elastic waistband of his clothes. "Imagine that my mouth isn't filled with your fingers…" My hand finally found his cock- hard, straining, ready- and I brushed my fingers along the shaft. "… imagine it's your cock." I wrapped my hand, very, very gently, around his cock and then my fingers found the tip, just as I began to lick his fingertips once again. "Imagine that's what I'm doing, and imagine how good it feels…" And with a last flick of my tongue, which he felt on the head of his penis, even knowing that he wasn't really, he came- spilling into and all around my hand, growling into my neck as his whole body shook and then went limp, laying against me.

I smiled a satisfied smile as I gently removed my hand. I whispered a cleaning spell and vanished the sticky white evidence of his orgasm and decided to give him exactly sixty seconds rest before we moved on to round two.

_Author's Note: I hope some of you are enjoying this... if not, feel free to let me know (but, please, be nice about it... I'm very sensitive about this whole thing). For anyone who's kept up reading so far- thank you!_


	9. Paint The Sky With Stars

**_Disclaimer: Still don't own Sirius. Don't sue me for using his likeness in my little imaginary world._**

_Author's note: This is rated **M** for a reason. Don't read it if that upsets you._

Sixty-two seconds later he found his voice.

"How did you do that?"

I shrugged, and realized that he couldn't see the action, but his head was on my shoulder, so he felt it.

"Did you know that some vampires can give orgasms with eye contact? Some with only a whispered word? I'm not one of those, but sometimes, in the right situation, I can enhance a partner's senses to the extent that they come with less provocation than is usually required. Are you okay? Are you finished?"

"Give me a few minutes and I'll- for now, I just need to breathe. That was…"

I smiled and kissed his forehead. "Thank you. You're very nice."

In the course of mentioning certain things that can go hand and hand with vampire sex, I'd left something out. It didn't really seem like the right time to mention the fact that vampires, every so often, find a partner to complimentary, so accepting, so perfect for them as individuals, that the act of sex serves as a bond which lasts for a lifetime. I'd heard these stories, tales of how my ancestors had done such things, and dismissed them. Whether or not they were true for full-fledged vampires was dubious enough; I'd always doubted these things could apply to me and any situation in which I might find myself.

"I've never heard that, about vampires, before." He moved off of me, cuddled up behind, and held me to him, running his finger, absently, in a line up and down my body. I laid my head back against him and smiled up. "I have heard something else, though."

"And what was that," I asked, worried even as his hand moved and his fingers trailed circles around my belly button.

"I heard that they mate for life."

"That can be true, depending on the people involved."

"Would that include us?" He kissed the nape of my neck and I shuddered back against him, feeling just how much good this little rest was doing him, and how he would shortly be ready for more.

"It could. I don't know, to be honest. I'm not certain what needs to be in place, or who, for that sort of bond to take effect."

"Could it already, based on last night?"

I shook my head, even as I stretched my neck forward to expose the back of it for more kisses and licks.

"You were unconscious, more or less- my understanding is that both parties need to be alert, to be actively choosing what is happening. It has to do with choices made by both people, within themselves, before the pleasure comes intensely enough to rob them of their will. Of course, with vampires, it's hard to tell whose will is whose- it's so easily transferred, projected, one to the other and back again."

"You know," he pulled me back, even closer, pressing me to his chest, our slick skin sealing together, "between what we did last night, what we just did a moment ago- I don't feel like you're robbing me of my will. My thoughts still feel like my own. Are you still scared that you'll brainwash me?"

I sighed. He moved a hand to my chin and titled my face toward his, his eyes boring into mine in that way he had that no one else seemed to possess. Forget the possibility of my Thrall over him, how could he make me feel like I needed to tell him absolutely everything, and that I would still be safe in the circle of his arms? How could he, so consistently, look inside of me and find all those hidden things that I would not dream of saying- except how could I not tell him?

"I'm still a little worried, but I am so skin-blisteringly happy that I've stopped caring. I think part of me decided that you're immune to me, but that could be rationalization. Like I'm convincing myself that doing more of this might hurt you, and I don't want it to. But more than that, the idea of stopping this freezes my blood, hurts my stomach- I'm not saying I'd rather die than get out of this bed and walk away from you, just that the two options, presented like that, are hard to weigh.

"I'm also completely terrified that I might be falling in love with you. Which is the silliest, most idiotic thing ever, but there you go… I said it. Or, I don't know if I love you, but I know that I want you and I think I might need you, besides. Which is horrible- you don't owe it to me to stay, to pretend to love me back…"

"Amarice-" He moved over me, astride me, hovering above my face, blocking from my vision anything except those blue-green eyes. "I am starting to love you, too. I know it makes no sense- it's probably just some crazy offshoot of the way we met, the intensity of the last few days, but how many relationships start that way and end up lasting? Some of them have to… But everything you just said- wanting this more than anything, not necessarily caring about all the other stuff, like what will happen later- it's true for me as well. I've never wanted anyone like this- and that's me saying that- not some Thrall, not some sense of obligation to you for saving my life. If we do this, really do this…"

"You mean, if we fuck."

"Yes- if we fuck, and if it winds up forming some sort of bond for us, then I will be happy about that. If it doesn't, we can sort that out, too. But I'm still in- all the way. Are you?"

I looked into his eyes, and I felt the seriousness of the situation, but I also felt an incandescent happiness that forced me to laugh as I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down, that short distance, to me.

"I am, all the way, Sirius."

I pulled him to my lips and the smile on my face melted away into urgency as his tongue moved against mine. I wrapped a leg around him and flipped him over so that I was on top of him again. I rose up slightly, not breaking the kiss. He leaned up, following me and helping me strip him of his trousers, casting them aside so that there was nothing left between us. With a gentle and firm touch, I pushed him back down, lying prostrate beneath me, and began to slowly, with a painful sense of deliberation, slide my lips around his member. Moving gently up and down, letting him rub against my clitoris and the varying folds around it, driving us both mad.

I could hear his heart beat faster, I could hear his groans, and I spoke quietly through my own groans of building satisfaction, "You can't yet. Not yet. Just hold on."

"Woman, you'll… drive me- gah!- mad…"

I smiled deviously at him. "I know. But trust me…"

I suddenly raised myself up, rolling my head back as an orgasm caught me in its grasp. I could have let him come then, could have given him permission, given him a look, a suggestion, and he would be gone. But I knew that if he could hold off, what was about to happen would surpass a dozen less significant explosions.

His hands grabbed my hips and attempted to direct me. I peeled them off of me and lowered myself back to his stomach, sliding up and down slightly, letting him feel my against him, just not in the place he wanted. Once more, his tattoos felt warmer than the rest of his skin, and once more I almost lost track of whose power was whose- his, green, spilling from his tattoos in a barely visible mist, singeing and singing over both our flesh as his chest rose and fell.

I reached out a hand and closed his eyes, calmly calling for my power, knowing that this was a make or break moment. But he'd handled it so far, I could only assume this would work as well. I tore down walls inside of my mind, my spirit, I broke through to where I'd stored myself, years before. I could feel my skin hum as I called it forward, happy to be in my element again. Delighted to claim myself once more, and not afraid to offer my very essence to Sirius, knowing he would be awed and grateful, that his response would give credit to the gift.

"Sirius, I am going to count to three. When I say three, open your eyes. Do you hear me?"

"… yes…"

His voice sounded far away to me, as if he were wondering in some interior landscape as well as moving beneath me on the bed, laid bare and unashamed, offering everything to me as concisely as I was giving all to him.

I lay across him, I lined up with him, I pressed my chest to his, I felt his heart beating and his blood pounding and felt mine respond, searing inside of myself, and the time could no longer be put off- it had to be now.

"One…" Almost there, and he could feel me coming, and he rose to meet me, so I slowed down.

"Two…" And closer and it hurt to not have him inside of me, and I think it hurt him, too, to be so close and not have it, not taste the completion…

"Three-" His eyes shot open, straight into mine, alert and hungry, questioning and trusting, right as I pushed myself back and onto his erection. I screamed slightly as I impaled myself and wanted more, began to ride him. His eyes and mine never separated, and I felt our powers bending, melding, burning us both up- his colored green, mine-

"Purple- you're purple, Amarice…" He grabbed my hips and this time I let him, let his frantic need give power and urgency to the thrusting, again and again, deeper and deeper. My muscles remembered him, remembered that he could stretch up so far inside, touch places not usually stimulated- I could feel my cervix stretching to meet him, again and again, welcoming the bruises, the pain, riding it through to more and more pleasure, again and again, until it wasn't anything but a continual orgasm, one that didn't end.

"Oh- Gods and Goddesses, Amarice, can I-"

"Now."

And with those words the floodgates lifted and he let himself come. He was expecting an orgasm, but what hit him was the combination of our powers- of the powers bonding, blending, becoming one in an exquisite dance, doubling over, taking us both in their grips and fusing with our very flesh. He arched up, he moaned, he screamed, and I was already making noises that were high-pitched and almost inhuman, like our love-making itself- the screams came from somewhere else and went back there as I plunged again and again upon him until all else fled, but for the one moment when I turned supernova, inhuman, superhuman, and plunged my teeth into his neck, biting until the blood came, until it filled my mouth and I swallowed, feeling all of his power and mine flowing back and forth, give and take, bringing a glimpse of eternity and of perfection so certain it was a physical ache.

His arms went around me, holding me to him, holding me ever closer. I finally stilled, as did he. I left my face buried in his neck, his blood still on my lips, tonguing the bite mark, my legs and arms wound about him, refusing to let go. He held my head to him, his fingers wound in my hair, holding me still, and the Earth kept spinning in a frenzy of its own, as we held on to each other, knowing nothing else would keep us from floating off into some other place.

We stayed like that for moments, for hours, for years- who knew. But we couldn't let go, couldn't recover so quickly from the sealing of the bond- sealed with power, magic, need, love, and an exquisite, infinite grace. More assuredly than if some other, more formal, ceremony had taken place, we now belonged to each other, forever and ever, world without end, amen.

Whatever would come, whatever happened next, the world had changed color, and we were one.


	10. Just Like a Star

I don't remember falling asleep, but I remember waking up. Sirius was deep in slumber, one arm still about my waist, the other flung over his head. I smiled at the goofy grin on his face and gently disentangled myself. I sat on the edge of the bed and his arm found its way to my waist once more, trying to pull me back.

"Are you actually awake, or is this your sleeping self in all of its persistence?"

His face remained unchanged, but he curled over, toward me, and pulled more insistently. I leaned close and whispered into his ear, "You needn't fear- I'll return. But for now, I must get up."

I placed a pillow in his arms and he sighed happily. I took it as assent for my rising and picked up my kimono from the floor.

More adequately attired, I stretched and found my cigarettes before going outside to find Buckbeak. I didn't see him, so I sat on the edge of the fountain, smoking contentedly until I heard him alight beside me.

"Well, you two seem to have found a way to occupy yourselves," he smirked, dipping his head into the water for a drink.

I feigned shock. "Buckbeak- were you spying on us?"

He made a noise that expressed disdain and sarcasm; for someone who hadn't a human voice until recently, he was making excellent work of copying our mannerisms. "Better things to do than watch you lot copulate. But it's hard not to see that look on your face and understand what it means, and who put it there."

I blushed and he quirked his head in my direction. "Yes, Buckbeak- when I do that, it does go all over, and no, you can't look again. Sirius and I were doing what you thought we were doing. Do I truly look all that…"

"Satisfied? Yes. And peaceful, at the same time. That good, was it?"

"Yes… and no. It was… more than I'd anticipated. Much, much more."

"Are we discussing Sirius's, ah, endowments, or something else?"

I laughed. "His endowments are quite more than adequate, since you ask, but I mean something else."

"Ah- does it have to do with you being a vampire?"

"I'm not a vampire, I'm part vampire- how did you know?"

He seemed to shrug. "Just a guess. Something about the way you smell, the way you move. Maybe something else. I haven't been around many vampires, but something about you put me in mind of them. That's all. Did you feed off of him, or do you need to do that? How does that even work?"

"Yes, I fed off of him. No, I don't need to do that, in general, to survive. It's just like any other taste or preference- having it sated is gratifying, but not necessary. But that wasn't all that happened."

"Do you mean to tell me, or just go on being mysterious? I don't know if I'm curious enough to keep asking questions, and might just let all of your secrets stay inside of you."

"We… bonded. I hadn't meant for it to happen, exactly, but it did."

He nodded. "I've heard that vampires do that, sometimes. I thought it only happened with other vampires- I didn't know they could bond with just regular wizards."

I laughed. "I didn't know it would happen with me at all. I had a sense that it might happen with Sirius, but I don't think I really believed it until it did. And now…"

"Now you have no idea what to think. You're bonded, but what does that mean in a realistic sense- that's your question. Did he know that the bonding was possible if you mated?"

"Yes. We talked about it, and he said that he readily accepted whatever would come." I lowered my head and grinned, remembering his words and the sincerity they held. "He wanted the bond. He wanted me- he wants me. Me…"

"You don't need to be so surprised- it isn't becoming in a lady to doubt her attractions."

"Oh, Buckbeak- it's just so intoxicating! He's one of the few people I've ever met who could look past all of the other things around me and see me- and want me. Want to be with me.

"I haven't had many relationships, but I've had a couple of lovers. This, the post-coital part, is where I always start to go bonkers- to doubt what I mean to them, what they mean to me. I start to feel a need to escape so they can't tell me to my face how their desire was an illusion. That's happened, as well, which is why I fear it.

"But now- this- him… it's all so different. I know, so truly, I know, I understand, that it's real. That he really does love me, and that he'll never leave me. I know it doesn't make any sense, and I sound like an imbecile. A romantic imbecile, of all things. I was just explaining, twenty-four hours ago, to my uncle that I don't believe in romantic love, and here I am, having forged a bond of eternity…

"I feel more peaceful than I ever have. I feel so calm, so different. I get so scared, so much of the time. I'm afraid of other people, and afraid of being alone. I am afraid of crowds of people, I'm afraid of- so, so much in this life. But now, it's like a talisman- a kernel of hope and truth and light that I'm holding within myself, even now. I feel strong. I feel courageous- like I can do anything, because I have him, and he loves me and he'll never leave me.

"And I love him- and I'll never leave him. And having someone that I can love so completely, with such perfect trust, that's what the strength really comes from." I laughed.

"If I heard anyone else talking like this, I would think they'd gone insane. And stupid. It sounds so foolish and naïve, but it's the truth. Like I could die of happiness…"

"You also seem to have lost your ability to speak in complete sentences, but I'll forgive you. Congratulations, I guess. I don't know what one says in such a situation."

Just then an owl came soaring out of the lowering twilight and careened straight past us. It flew into my house and I heard a strange crashing noise followed by Sirius bellowing, "What the deuce?!"

He came wandering out of the house, rubbing his head and looking about for me. His face split into a grin as he spied me sitting near Buckbeak.

"Blasted bird pulled my hair! It gave me a letter- addressed to you and me, Amarice."

Seeing him blinking into the darkness, I was filled once more with soul-searing happiness. I rushed toward him and threw my arms around his waist, holding on, laughing. He hugged me, then surprised me by lifting me up and spinning me around in a circle. He finally set me down again and we embraced, pressing our lips together, each feeling the other smile.

"Need me to kiss your boo-boo?"

"Yes."

He lowered his head and I kissed the hairline, noting that he was right- the skin there was inflamed where his hair had been pulled by the eager bird. I took the letter from him and turned around, heading back to the fountain to sit and read. He embraced me from behind, walking with me, and planted a kiss on the top of my head.

Buckbeak snorted. "All right, you two- I know you're happy, you're in love, you've bonded. But this is your warning. You have twenty-four hours before I start biting when you do that obnoxious cuddly thing that couples do- go it?"

"Buckbeak, you old romantic! Twenty-four hours is quite generous."

"Well, I was young once, too."

"And in love?"

"Oh, gods, no! Ever met a female hippogriff? That's why we're so rare- none of us males are willing to go within a hundred yards of the females. Like harpies, only more rude, you know. And the smell- they all smell like Roquefort cheese, for reasons no one has ever been able to explain. Actually, to get a hippogriff to mate, our caretakers have to go to a lot of work."

"Like what?"

"It involves a blindfold and the song Moon River."

"Does it have to be the Andy Williams version, or will any other suffice?"

"Both of you- enough! It's from Dumbledore. He… that man- how on earth does he know everything? He wishes us the best of luck in our bond, Sirius. Says he knew we could do it. He also says that Remus is going to floo here tomorrow morning for a visit…

"Wait- I just remembered! I have a friend from school who's coming to visit tomorrow. She's supposed to stay a week; with all the other excitement I forgot. Oh, well- we'll just have to hope they get along. But, you know, Tonks is a really easy-going girl, I'm sure she won't mind the extra company."

"Remus might, but we could always just give him a sleeping draught and wake him up once she leaves. We can just put in him your bathtub or something."

"Nice… I can see that you are quite skilled at playing host. Do you think we should try to make the house bigger?"

"I don't know. We could just try adding another separate little building for guests. Or a hayloft- we could build a hayloft!"

"Sirius- I don't have hay. Why would I need a loft for my non-existent hay?"

"I have no answer except that I always wanted to have sex in a hayloft- people do it a lot in Swedish movies. We could turn it into something useful afterward. Like an owlery."

"Okay… a hayloft. With hay. I should be able to do that."

After pointing my wand and uttering a long series of complicated words, a hayloft sprung forth from the ground, looking odd, as it wasn't attached to a barn. But I've always appreciated the nonsensical, personally.

We then launched into a discussion of what color to paint it. I was making an impassioned argument in favor of good, old-fashioned, red when I heard another derisive snort behind me. Buckbeak was shaking his head and I heard him murmur to himself, "Merlin preserve us- they're nesting!" He was still shaking his head as he flew up, overhead, soaring in lazy circles over our heads as my Sirius and I continued planning ways to make our guests feel at home upon their arrival.

We hadn't talked about children, his godson, or the question of how Sirius would clear his name of the charges against him. But we were making our home ready for guests, and some things take precedence. Besides- we had the rest of our lives to sort out all the other questions. Or to let them take care of themselves…


End file.
